Unspoken
by drunk-terminator
Summary: They communicate in many languages, and not all of them have words.


this one has been on tumblr for a while now. i'm just really lazy to name my stuff.

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Sometimes when they visit and she's busy with more patrols than time, Hinowa invites them to stay for lunch, or dinner, or tomorrow's breakfast, or whatever. Fun fact: recently they accept her request more often than before. Not so fun fact: she and Gintoki have this little ritual, now. When the kids go to bed the two of them go upstairs to watch the stars and talk until it's time for one of her late patrols.

That is not bad per se, except that some nights she is too exhausted to properly articulate words and keep her eyes open, so she closes them for a second longer than necessary and there she is, waking up hours later with her head resting on Gintoki's shoulder and his head resting on hers. It's not just the embarrassment that gets her, the drool on her hair is disgusting too.

When it's cold, they wake up with a soft blanket covering them and the next morning Hinwa eyes them very suspiciously, but pretends she knows nothing. The little bitch.

~x~

In the beginning, they make an effort to talk. Mainly meaningless conversation, but anything is alright as long as they fill the silent gaps. How was your day? Tough patrol today? Are the kids alright? After a while, though, they embrace the quietness. They communicate in many languages, and not all of them have words - sometimes silence speaks louder.

One night when she worked harder than usual and felt more tired than usual and Gintoki's arm was closer to hers than usual too, she lights up her kiseru, ready to blow the stress away together with the smoke.

"Remember that one time you blew this disgusting thing of yours in my face?" He says, bringing up that moment for the first time. "I almost threw up."

She laughs, looking at him with reproval all over her face and, in a pleasant surprise, gets a rare sight of soft eyes and a genuine smile.

The city nocturnal activity is but a noise in the background, and the cold wind coming through the open door reminds them how warm the spot their arms touch is. His hair moves away from his forehead gently, and she thinks how beautiful his eyes are. He breaks the static spell between them when he leans in and kisses her. Quick, gentle, forever, she feels the smile in his lips (kisses speak louder than words too).

~x~

Now they don't have to fall asleep in the cold to share a blanket. They always take one of them when they go upstairs, ignoring how the kids look at each other and smile. They don't bother to set up their beds anymore. What even is a futon.

~x~

People say I love you in many different ways. With a smile,

sharing a bit of their favorite food,

concerned calls when you get sick,

with just a look in the eyes.

But actually saying the three words is the hardest part.

It works pretty well for them when neither want to be alone yet words cannot shout the worries and joys trapped inside their hearts. Just the silent company and the little touches of hands communicate so well such things.

One day he rests his head in her lap and she messes up his already messy hair until he is snoring quietly. He looks so relaxed when he sleeps, with his shoulders at ease and his chest rising and falling at a quiet rhythm. Her fingers trace meaningless shapes into his back: his name, a cat, a smiley face, a tiny heart.

He makes a funny noise in his sleep, and she smiles. And at that moment she realizes how precious he is to her. How much she cares about him, how important these nights they share together are, how much she loves when he smiles.

How much she loves him.

Her fingers are hesitant now, but she writes that on his back too. No one has to know.

But fate is truly cruel with her. He moves a bit, adjusting himself in a better position, and she freezes, thinking she was busted. Her cheeks flush and her heart races and please don't be awake.

For the next minutes she doesn't even blink watching his back move when he breathes. After good five minutes, when her heart slowed down a bit and she is convinced it was just him moving in his sleep, she sighs in relief. That's when a finger presses her back gently and traces slow lines that spell exactly what she wrote on his. She lets out a nervous, happy laugh. So does he.

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based on this adorable little prompt: Imagine person A lightly tracing "I love you" over and over again on person B's back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, "I love you too." Bonus if that's the first time person A has ever declared their love for person B.

i'm cry :')


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